


Writhing In The Snakepit

by FascinationStreet



Category: Fury (2014)
Genre: D/s themes, Feminisation, M/M, Team Dynamics, Threesome, power games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FascinationStreet/pseuds/FascinationStreet
Summary: Grady gets what he wants. He sits heavily back against the metal of the wall of the tank and smirks. He takes a long drag on his smoke, satisfied that he’s hit the mark.“Hey Princess,” he drawls, waiting for Norman to turn around and look at him before he continues, “you gonna bitch like a dame and i’m gonna treat you like one, give you something better to do with that pretty little mouth of yours.”





	Writhing In The Snakepit

They've been crawling through the German countryside for the best part of two days now, stopping and starting, told to go one way then the other. Hurry up and wait, the usual shit.

It’s been like this, the same shit different day, since the start of the invasion, since Europe, since North Africa. Three years of it, doing what they can to survive, doing what it took to stay together as a crew. 

But since they took that shithole village there’s been a tension, invading every crack and crevice in the tank until they’re all wound tight and fraying at the edges. It’s not the first time it’s happened, usually they wind up getting drunk as dogs and collapsing on one another. Or if it’s really bad, letting fists fly until the blood from split lips and split knuckles washes the heaviness away and they get back on their shit and roll out to another day of killing and dying. 

This time it’s different. This time, there’s no Red to take the first drink or the first swing. This time, they have Norman. And Grady has Norman’s number.

It starts with simple, innocent things. Or as innocent as Coon-Ass can be, which isn’t very. Throwing things at Norman instead of passing them to him, talking over him, talking about what he’d have done to the girl if he’d been invited to their fancy little party.

Norman grits his teeth and ignores it as best he can. Grady sees this, and adjusts his trajectory accordingly. He might miss once, but Grady never misses twice.

Norman never shares anything with them. Rations, water, sure, but when they talk about home, Norman clams up tighter than a nun’s habit. He gives himself away as easily as if he’d put up signs and given Grady a map to his soft spot. 

The roads they crawl down all look the same; ankle deep mud, blood, and hedgerows. Over and over until they get to where they need to be. Don almost welcomes the break in the monotony that comes with Grady finally deciding to drop his payload. 

“Hey Bible, what’s your Momma like?” It’s not an unfamiliar conversation, they all know where it goes. All of them except Norman, that is. 

“My momma’s a good Christian woman, Coon-Ass, she ain’t never gonna go anywhere near your heathen ass so you can stop yourself right there, save yourself the trouble.” Bible doesn’t bother to turn around, smiling ever so slightly around his smoke.

“Wouldn’t be so sure Boyd, you know all the broads love to save a sinner.”

“Yeah but your ass is beyond salvation,” Gordo chimes in, “you goin’ straight to hell and you know it, you’re an animal.”

“Fuck you, Gordo,” Grady grins, “wouldn’t touch your momma with a fuckin’ bayonet.” 

“You’d be lucky to touch my momma, she has better taste than that.”

“Nah, you know she’s all kinds of dirty, don’t even want to know where she’s been.” 

Gordo throws something at Grady without looking, missing wildly. 

“Now, Norman’s momma on the other hand, oh I bet she’s just a treat.” Don sees Norman’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t bite. Yet. “It’d take more than a chocolate bar to get her to give it up but it’d be worth it.”

“Oh yeah, I’d have her seven ways from sunday for sure, make her beg for more. What you think Norman, how’d you feel about me bein’ your new daddy?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Aw ain’t that cute, you gonna read him a bedtime story?” Gordo croons.

Norman’s protest apparently goes unheard.

“Sure as shit.”

“Now call me a pessimist but I can’t see you bouncing little Norman on your knee here, puttin’ band-aids on his boo-boos,” Boyd says, lighting another smoke. 

“Nah, I’d be packin’ him off to school as soon as I could every morning’ so I could bend his momma over the kitchen table and fu-,” 

“Shut the fuck up right now, Grady,” Norman grits out. He doesn’t want to play nice with the boys. Or maybe just with Grady, who knows.

A beat of shocked silence passes over the crew, broken by hoots and laughter.

“‘Ey, kid finally learning how to stand up for himself,” Gordo reaches across to punch Norman’s shoulder, “good for you!”. Don watches as Norman rocks from it, not reacting in the slightest.

Grady gets what he wants. He sits heavily back against the metal of the wall of the tank and smirks. He takes a long drag on his smoke, satisfied that he’s hit the mark. 

“Hey Princess,” he drawls, waiting for Norman to turn around and look at him before he continues, “you gonna bitch like a dame and i’m gonna treat you like one, give you something better to do with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Norman stares, and Grady holds his gaze. Gordo and Boyd continue to play the peanut gallery, chiming in and laughing. Don stays silent and watches Grady suck on his tongue and flash Norman a feral grin before turning away to join back in on the conversation. 

Don knows it’s not an empty threat.

By the way Norman swallows and squares his jaw before he turns away, so does he.

\---

They finally get to the shithole town they’re supposed to take and find only token resistance, the Germans apparently not willing to die to defend a shitty little village this close to the advance. It’s more of a cluster of buildings than any kind of community, with little to no strategic value. Not even the locals think it’s worth staying there, it’s a ghost town. 

It’s as good as any place to hole up for the night though, and they hash out between Baker and the crews who has to hold a perimeter and who gets to sleep inside for the night.

Fury gets assigned a rickety little farmhouse that at least has a half-functioning kitchen and enough beds for everyone to claim their own. To them it’s a luxury. 

Bible heads to the kitchen while the rest of them fight over who gets to sleep where and by the grace of his precious God somehow finds enough food for the five of them to have a decent meal with their rations. He calls everyone down to eat when they’ve had enough time to do what they can to wash some of the dirt and grime off themselves, which isn’t much. 

Don sits himself at the head of the table, watching as Bible brings in buttered bread and cheese and a plate of sausages.

“Where the fuck’d you find all of this, holy shit,” Gordo loads his plate up as soon as he gets the nod from Don.

“The Lord provides.” Boyd bows. Grady grins at him, stabbing a sausage.

“He sure fuckin’ does. Amen.” 

They all know better than to start eating before Boyd says grace, but once he finishes any restraint flies out of the window and they attack the food like wild animals.

Norman sits to Don’s right again, and they’re almost a picture perfect image of dinner a few days ago in the apartment with the German girls but without the threat of violence hanging over the table like a blanket. 

The tension hasn’t entirely dissipated, though. Norman and Grady won’t look at each other. Or rather, Grady shoots looks at Norman who won’t look back. He clenches his jaw and refuses to look up until someone catches Grady’s attention to divert it from him.

Don watches it all. Takes in every detail of his little family gathered around their table, eating food they scavenged from the enemy. He sees everything, knows what he needs to do to keep them functioning as a unit.

He promised to keep them alive, and that’s what he’s going to do.

\---

After they’ve finished eating and smoked a full pack of Luckies between them they all wander off to do their own thing, leaving Don at the table to stare into space for a while. 

He heaves himself up eventually, coming back to himself with a clear head, and sets out on a mission to track down Grady.

It’s no surprise to find him in the cellar, even though he tried a few other rooms on the off chance that Grady could break the habit of a lifetime. He’s on the hunt for any kind of booze that’s managed to survive mostly unscathed, living up to expectations. Don cocks his hip against the wall and waits for Grady to finish raking through the crate he’s found.

A few minutes later he stands up triumphant, holding up a full bottle to the light to try and make out the label. Not that it would help if the label’s in German, but Boyd always says God loves a trier. 

Grady pulls out the stopper and gives it a cursory sniff before taking a mouthful, swishing it around a little before he swallows. 

He hands the bottle to Don, who takes a swig. Tastes like rum, in that it tastes like shit, but he’s never been a picky man. He takes another drink.

“How’s about a little trainin’ exercise tonight, just you, me and the kid.” When Grady catches his eye and a slow, predatory grin starts to spread across his face, he knows Grady gets what he means. He holds out the bottle to him.

“Just tell me where, sir” Grady smirks and takes the bottle back.

\---

Norman has scrunched himself up into a ball and is perched somewhat precariously on a window nook that was made for someone far smaller than him. He’s holding a book that Don knows he can’t read since he can see even from here that it’s in German. He flicks through it with one hand, balanced on his knees, and tugs idly at his lower lip with his other hand.

Norman doesn’t notice him, not until he gets close enough to reach over his shoulder to close the book and throw it somewhere behind him, already beyond his care. Don grabs the scruff of his jacket and pulls him off the seat, keeping him upright when he starts at the interruption and loses his balance.

“Follow me.” 

“Where’re we going?” Don has to tug at him when he hesitates on the threshold of the room.

“You’ll see.”

Don drags him to the room he’s chosen for the night, nothing special but it’s near the front of the house so if anyone tries to get in he’ll hear, but far enough away from the other rooms that no one will hear him. Not that being overheard is a concern right now, if the boys wind up getting a bit of a show then so be it, they’ve all heard each other do worse.

Norman stops to look at him in question when Don opens the door, and he pushes him into the room ahead of him by his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him with his boot.

Grady is making himself at home on the bed, stripped down to his undershirt and lounging against the headboard with a pack of smokes on his chest, looking like he hasn’t a care in the world. The kid has no idea what’s going on.

“Now,” Don starts, taking up the floor, “it’s come to my attention that you two apparently don’t know how to play nice and it’s really startin’ to grind my gears, so here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re all gonna fuck it out and get back to playin’ happy families with each other and finish invadin’ a fuckin’ country, okay? Okay.”

Grady chuckles around his cigarette at Norman’s spluttering, throwing a hand behind his head to somehow look even more at home.

“You can’t be serious?” Norman’s brow is furrowed, looking between Don and Grady, “this has to be some kind of joke right?”

Don works the buckle of his holster open and pulls it off his shoulders, “I ain’t never been more serious in my life, Norman.”

He catches Norman’s eyes and holds them, not budging an inch. He means business. 

“No decent pussy out here for miles, kid,” Grady laughs, “but you’re pretty enough to do for now.”

Don watches Norman’s face colour, how it deepens when Grady winks at him. He walks around behind him to pull off his fatigue jacket and starts on the buttons of his shirt. 

“What’re you doing?” He tries to turn, to shake off Don’s hands but it doesn’t work.

“We ain’t got all day, Norman. If you’re not gonna do it for yourself then i’ll have to do it for you.”

He lets Norman pull away from him and watches while he looks between them again with his hands on the last few buttons left on his shirt. 

“You gonna give us a show, son? Shame we ain’t got no pretty dresses for you to try on in’t it, Wardaddy.” Grady draws heavily on his smoke and throws the pack to Don.

When Norman looks to him for some kind of reaction he’s disappointed. Don taps a cigarette out of the pack and lights it, cocking his head at the kid. He raises his eyebrows when Norman makes no move to continue undressing.

He strips himself off with efficiency borne of even eight short weeks in the army. Not long enough to be quite comfortable with it, but enough to get the motions down.

Once he’s down to his skivvies he stops, staring ahead at the wall with his jaw tensed like it was back in that field when he tried to say no to Don with a German on his knees begging for his life.

Don isn’t in the habit of being refused, and he knows he won’t be disappointed this time either. 

He’s impressed when Norman doesn’t take a step back when he stalks towards him. He cuffs his neck and threads his fingers into the short hair at his nape to pull his head back. 

“Now I’m only gonna ask this once Norman. You gonna be a good boy and play along?”

He sees the conflict in Norman’s face, the way his eyelids drop when Don runs his thumb over his lips, the way he just lets him push and prod at his mouth without any resistance and he knows he’s got him. 

Norman nods against the grip on his hair.

 

“Say it Norman. Say you want this. Or say you don’t and you can walk away right now.”

Don watches him as he works through whatever he’s got running through his head.

 

“We’re waitin’ son.”

 

“I want it.” Norman’s voice is barely a whisper, choked and patchy.

 

Don looks up from Norman’s face over his shoulder.

“Did you hear that Grady?”

 

Grady grins, “didn’t hear a word of it from all the way over here.”

 

“You’re gonna have to speak up for Grady, Norman.” He shakes Norman’s head a little in reproach, “It’s not polite to whisper.”

 

“I want it.” This time is louder, like he’s forced it out and has shocked himself with it. Grady laughs again.

 

“No one ever teach you manners, babe? What’s the magic word?” He grins with his tongue caught between his teeth. 

Don pushes his thumb into Norman’s mouth, running along the line of his teeth and Norman closes his eyes completely, breath ghosting over his hand. 

“Please.”

 

“There,” Don smiles humorlessly, “now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now get those all the way off, boy, we’re not here to hold hands and sing love songs.”

Don waits until he drops his skivvies and shoves him in the back towards the bed. Grady is slouched against the wall with both feet planted on the bed, spread wide, the last of his smoke dangling from the hand hanging over his knee. When Norman sits down the the end of the mattress he drops the leg on the edge of the bed to the floor and sits up enough to pull his undershirt over his head. 

Don can see the intake of breath from Norman at the sheer size of Grady even from behind. He knows Grady is deceptive, swamped in the layers of his uniform he doesn’t look much but he’s built like a Sherman underneath it all. He’s the strongest out of all of them by far.

“Saved you a seat, sweetheart. Best in the house,” Grady pats his thigh in invitation.

Norman’s fists clench at his sides and he takes a few moments to get it together enough to pull himself up to his knees to crawl forwards. Don pushes him in the back to get him to move quicker. 

Once he’s sat astride Grady’s thigh, Grady unbuttons his pants and pushes them just enough for him to pull his cock out to lie against his stomach. He’s not hard, but getting there.

Norman stares at it, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides. Don drops onto the bed and crowds up behind him, his chest against Norman’s back and grabs his wrist. He guides his hand towards Grady’s cock and rubs over it.

“Don’t you know how this works? Gotta get it hard first. You never touched yourself like this, Norman? Wouldn’t think you’d fucked that little fraulein, she do all the work for you?” 

Norman mumbles something when Don wraps his fingers around Grady’s dick and Don pulls his chin up until Norman is forced to lean his head back on his shoulder if he doesn’t want to choke himself.

“What was that, son, what’d you say?”

“I- we didn’t.” Norman stutters, “not, not that.”

Grady rubs a hand over his face and looks towards the heavens, apparently looking for strength in the face of such stupidity.

“You mean you had a chance at some good clean virgin pussy and you ain’t take it? Damn kid you’re a fuckin’ idiot, downright ungrateful. The Sergeant here gives you a hot piece of ass on a silver fuckin’ platter and you turned it down!” 

“It didn’t seem right,” Norman protests feebly. 

“Well then Coon-Ass, looks like we’re just gonna have to teach the kid how you treat virgin pussy then huh?”

“Yes sir,” Grady drawls, grinning sharply at Norman.

Norman closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly in some kind of surrender.

“Damn right.”

He lets go of Norman’s chin and pushes him forward again, concentrating on where his hand is wrapped around Norman’s on Grady’s cock. He moves their hands up and down slowly, squeezing on the upstroke and twisting when they get to the head.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Grady groans, “why don’t you come up here and give me a kiss like a good girl?”

Norman barely hesitates this time, finally getting into it. He plants one hand on Grady’s chest for balance and leans forward to kiss him lightly.

Grady grabs the back of his neck and pulls him tight against his chest, trapping his hand between them. The kiss looks bruising and he feels Norman’s hand loosen under his but he doesn’t let up, upping the pace and squeezing Grady’s cock harder on the upstroke now that he’s fully hard. 

When Grady lets Norman go Norman drops his head to watch Grady’s cock pushing in and out of his fist in rapt fascination, like this is his first time with a dick in his hand including his own.

Norman’s hands aren’t delicate, they’re undoubtedly the hands of a man. There’s mud caked under his nails, calluses forming on the palm, knuckles red and chafed, just like all of their hands are now. They’re still smaller than Don’s though, and weaker. Norman’s hands are capable of sixty words per minute but Don’s can do damage that Norman can only dream of, has only begun to imagine. Don’s hands have done unspeakable things, and the contrast between them is exquisite.

Grady’s hands, practically black from oil and grease that never quite washes off, trail down Norman’s flanks to rest on his hips, starting to rock them so that Norman can rub off on his thigh. Norman lets out a breathy moan, distracted from watching Grady’s cock by the feeling of hard muscle against his own. 

“That feel good, Norman?” Don whispers in his ear, “you gonna come for us like this?”

Norman’s hips stutter.

“I- I can’t. Not like this.”

Grady sits up suddenly so that their chests are flush, almost unbalancing the kid from his thigh and pushing him back into Don’s chest. He pulls his hands off his hips and clamps them either side of Norman’s face. Norman doesn’t stop grinding into his thigh in small jerks, like he can’t stop now that he knows how good it feels.

“What was that? What was that huh? You disobeyin’ a direct order, gettin’ greedy?” Grady shakes his head as he speaks, eyes hard and dark. “You ain’t gettin’ any more than we give you, you got that?”

“I’m sorry,” Norman pants, eyes screwed up, “it’s not enough I’m sorry, please.”

Don pushes himself further into Norman’s back again so that he’s pinned between the two of them. His hips finally stop, unable to get any kind of friction now that he’s trapped.

He doesn’t let Norman’s hand on Grady’s cock let up for a second. It wouldn’t do to neglect him.

“Now now Grady,” he chides, no heat behind it, “our boy here ain’t some cheap whore you like to pick up on the streets for couple of smokes. He’s a classy one, nice piece’a untouched virgin pussy you gotta treat right. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” He bring his hand up to hold Norman’s chin again, thumb stroking over the smooth skin of his cheek.  
Norman’s breath stutters in his chest when Don brings his head close enough to bite at his ear lobe, just the wrong side of gentle.

“I said ain’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Grady pinches at Norman’s nipples, making him groan deeply.

“You better answer the man, kid. He ain’t in the habit of bein’ ignored.” 

“Yeah- yes, yes.” He doesn’t even know how to answer the question but he tries, and for that Don is satisfied. 

He pushes Norman and Grady back down onto the bed with a hand placed firmly between Norman’s shoulder blades. He lets go of the hand wrapped around Grady’s cock and brings it up to tap two fingers on Norman’s bottom lip. 

“Get em wet, baby.”

Norman takes the fingers into his mouth, laves at them with his tongue, does what he can to get them wet at the awkward angle. 

Don pulls them out after a minute or so, and runs them lightly down his spine and through his cleft to brush over his hole. 

Norman jerks and Grady’s hands clamp his hips to stop him bucking away from the touch. From the way Norman’s skin goes white around them they’ll be nicely bruised in the morning.

Don spits onto his fingers and circles his hole properly, pressing harder with every pass until he can start to work the tip of his index finger inside. It’s still too dry, but he’s not in any rush.

“She tight?” Grady asks, meeting his eyes over Norman’s shoulder.

“And how, gonna need a lot more help with this little filly.” Don grins at him. 

He reaches into the drawer beside the bed and roots around for anything of use. He pulls out some kind of oil, not wasting time to read the label. He was never as good with reading German anyway. He pours some of it out and tests it between his fingers. It’s a bit more watery than he’d like but not sticky, so they’ll make do, just like with everything else in this godforsaken war.

He pours it directly onto Norman’s skin so it pours between his cheeks, catching it as it runs down his crack with his thumb to push it into his hole. He slides in with only a little resistance, and Norman lets out a groan. His head drops onto Grady’s shoulder, huffing out breaths into his neck. 

Don fucks him with his thumb for a while, slowly pulling it all the way out and pushing back in again just to see how it makes Norman squirm. He replaces his thumb with his finger, adding another soon after, the ring of muscle starting to loosen around him. 

“Bet that feels so good, don’t it? Two fingers in that tight little cunt and you still want more, look at you.” Grady keeps up a litany of encouragement in Norman’s ear, only breaking off to bite at whatever skin he can reach. “You want somethin’ to suck on, keep that pretty mouth busy just like I promised? Yeah you do, here you go.” 

He takes one of his hands off Norman’s hips, allowing him to fuck back into Don’s fingers. Don reaches up to cuff to back of his neck to keep him still. Grady teases him for a while, pulling his fingers back at the last minute every time Norman tries to get them into his mouth. Eventually he relents, allowing Norman to suck on his fingers and starts running his mouth again.

“We’re gonna make you feel real good, Princess. Just so long as you’re good for us, then we’ll be good to you.”

Norman’s hand is still on his cock, tight enough, but Grady is fucking up into it now since Norman seems to be a little preoccupied.

“Hey Coon-Ass, could use a hand back here.” Grady meets his eyes again and smirks. 

“My pleasure.”

Grady pulls his fingers out of Norman’s mouth, the light catching the wetness that clings to them. His hand slips leisurely down over Norman’s back and his hip to rub around where Don’s fingers disappear inside him, getting them slick enough in the remaining oil to press in beside them. 

Norman makes the most beautiful sounds as Grady slips his index finger in beside Don’s, not giving him any time to settle into it. He starts fucking in straight away, crooking to find the perfect spot to make the kid see stars.

The bottle of oil is still beside Don on the bed, and he pulls out his fingers to pour a little more over them, pushing them back inside. Grady takes that as a hint to add a second, Norman stretching beautifully around four fingers. 

“Your cunt is so wet for us baby, you love this huh? Love having the two of us fuckin’ you just like this, ridin’ on our fingers like a little slut.” Norman whines high in his throat and pushes back into them for more. “Bet you can come like this, don’t even have to touch yourself at all.” 

He practically rides their fingers, hips bucking like he can’t keep a hold on himself anymore. It doesn’t take him long to lose what semblance of rhythm he has, curling in on himself as he comes all over Grady’s chest.

“That’s it,” Grady soothes, “so good for us aintcha? Can’t get enough of this.”

They don’t take their fingers out right away, both of them continuing to fuck him and doing everything they can to get Norman to jerk when they find the perfect spot inside of him again and again, laughing as he tries to pull away from them when he gets too sensitive.

When his breathing starts to hitch more and more, Don finally pulls his fingers out and wipes them off on the covers with Grady following his lead. Norman slumps into Grady, his hand still wrapped around his cock but completely motionless.

Don gives him a few seconds to catch his breath.

“Go find a cloth for poor Grady, you got him all dirty. Look at that mess.”

He sits back to give Norman enough space to heave himself up before he stands on shaky legs and looks around the room for something to clean up with. Eventually he finds a scarf hanging out of one of the drawers on the other side of the room where someone had obviously packed in a hurry and fled the house. Their loss is another man’s gain. 

Norman cleans off Grady’s chest and stomach as best he can, not bothering to clean himself. He moves to stand up again, obviously not sure what happens next.

Grady’s hand shoots out to catch his wrist in a vice grip before he even fully straightens up.

“Uh uh, where’d you think you’re goin’, princess? Now it’s time for ol’ Top to get his. Don’t you think he deserves it after everythin’ he just taught you, huh? Get over here.”

He pulls Norman back by the hips so that he’s bracketed between his legs, back flush with his chest. He holds him in place with a heavy arm clamped over his chest, hand wrapped loosely around his throat.

They both watch as Don stands, slowly pulling off his jacket and shirt and letting them fall to the floor. He takes in Grady’s feral grin pressed against Norman’s neck and the hunger in the kid’s eyes as his hands drift down to the buttons on his fly. 

He opens his pants just enough that they just cling on to his hips, stroking himself through them as he crawls back onto the bed. He can see Grady’s hips grinding into Norman’s ass, fingerprint shaped bruises already blooming over his pale skin.

Norman’s face is flushed, chest heaving, his eyes glassy. He looks amazing like this, so wrecked and still wanting more, ready to earn his place on the crew.

He pushes his pants down enough to free himself and reaches for the bottle of oil. Grady uses the hand that isn’t wrapped around Norman’s throat to lift up his thigh, giving Don access. 

The slick sound of Don rubbing oil over his cock mixes with Norman’s breathing and the rustling of the sheets.

“You ready for this?” Grady nips at Norman’s neck, “bet this is what you been waitin’ for ever since you showed up at camp, for the Sergeant to show you who’s boss.”

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for, huh Norman?” Don hovers over him, getting into place.

Norman shuts his eyes and nods.

When Don finally gets himself lined up and begins to push in slowly, Norman’s hands fly up to clutch at the arm across his chest stopping him from bucking wildly. He whines and moans, trapped between the ache of the stretch and how good it feels.

“Now you just hold on nice and tight for the ride honey, Wardaddy’s gonna make it real good for you.”

Don pistons his hips, setting up a sure and steady rhythm, picking up the pace gradually and watching as Norman falls apart underneath him, as he writhes in Grady’s grip. He can’t move a lot but he tries, clawing at anything he can get his hands on. His hips jerk with every thrust, enough that Grady has to hook his arm around Norman’s thigh to press his hand down over his stomach to keep them down, fingers splayed either side of his dick. 

Now that it comes down to it, Don’s silent, lets Grady continue to do the talking for him. Probably couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to at this point. 

He changes his angle slightly, pushing up Norman’s other thigh and leaning his weight on it. It lets him get deeper, and he knows he’s hit gold when Norman practically sobs, clawing frantically at Grady’s arm. 

Shaking away the hair from his eyes, he fucks in even harder and faster, shaking the bed hard enough that the headboard starts to bang against the wall and Norman’s wails get even louder.

“Listen to you, practically begging for more.” He leans in to whisper, “makin’ such a racket Gordo and Boyd are probably beating off to it right now. You gonna give them a show, make it real good for ‘em?”

It triggers something in Norman, the thought of being overheard as he gets fucked through the mattress apparently enough to make him come again, clenching tight around Don.

He fucks him through it, winding the pace down but not stopping, milking every last drop from Norman’s cock and making him shake in Grady’s hold. 

When he pulls out Norman gasps, his chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. 

“On your knees, Norman. Right now, on the floor, on your fuckin’ knees.” Norman scrambles to obey him, his voice leaving no doubt that he didn’t want to disobey a direct order.

“That’s it, just like a good girl. You’re gonna take this,” he strokes his cock, rubbing over the leaking head, “and you’re gonna enjoy it, you hear me?” 

He cuffs Norman around the back of his neck and pulls him forward enough that he can feed him his cock inch by inch, Norman’s mouth dropping open without a command. He pulls Norman onto his dick, further and further until he feels him choke. He pulls it out again, letting it sit heavy on the kid’s tongue while he jacks himself off with his other hand.

Grady gets the idea and sits up, angling himself towards Norman and jerking off, hand moving so fast it’s almost a blur. 

It’s no surprise that he comes first, they all know Grady’s a fuckin’ animal. He stripes Norman’s face and neck, missing his mouth almost entirely. He closes his eyes when he feels the first drops of Grady’s come, but opens them again to look up at Don, brimming with tears from his throat being fucked. 

It doesn’t take long for him to follow, grunting as he spills over Norman’s tongue and his lips, running down over his chin. He keeps stroking until there’s nothing left, letting his cock fall from Norman’s mouth but not letting go of the grip on his neck.

He leans forward, “you swallow that all down, don’t wanna see a single drop left. 

Norman swallows without hesitation, gazing up at Don and opening his mouth again to prove that there’s nothing left. 

Don sits back in satisfaction and tucks himself back into his pants with one hand, not bothering to button them up again.

Grady reaches over to trail his fingers through their come on Norman’s skin, gathering it up to push it into his mouth and grinning when Norman sucks it off his fingers. 

“Clean it all up sweetheart, there ya go, that’s right.” 

He keeps it up, methodically gathering up every drop until there’s not a trace left on Norman, then he fucks his fingers into his mouth and watches as Norman continues to suck on them, letting him push in as far as he wants without resistance. 

“What do you say, Norman?” Don prompts.

Grady makes no move to take his fingers out of his mouth so he’s forced to speak around them incomprehensibly.

“What’s that, baby?” Grady finally pulls them out and wipes them off on his pants. “Couldn’t hear ya, didn’t your momma teach you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?”

“Thank you,” Norman breathes, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Good boy,” Don stands up and ruffles Norman’s hair as he walks around him to get dressed again. He’s achieved his goal, there’s no need to hang around. 

Grady follows him up and slaps Norman’s cheek on the way past. Norman sways with the impact, still sitting back on his heels on the floor.

Don taps a smoke out of the pack he finds crumpled in his jacket, patting himself down for his lighter. Grady puts his own to his lips and leans over so that Don can light his off the same flame. 

“Get some rest Norman, we’re moving out bright and early in the morning.” He holds the door open for Grady, then shuts it behind himself as he walks down the corridor back towards the kitchen, leaving Norman wrecked and naked in the room. 

He’s gone when Don returns a few hours later. He climbs into the bed and turns towards the moon poking through the small window. He sleeps well that night.


End file.
